Frozen Peas
by whiskets
Summary: Emma comes home, after having sustained an injury, surprised to find Mary Margaret home as well. If the injury is work-related, why does she hide it from MM? Pre-Curse family bonding. T for language, little bit of drama and ouchies. MM/Emma friendship. One-shot. Spoilers post "Hat Trick"ish


**Title: Frozen Peas**

Summary: Emma comes home, after having sustained an injury, surprised to find Mary Margaret home as well. If the injury is work-related, why does she hide it from MM? Pre-Curse family bonding. T for language and ouchies. MM/Emma friendship. One-shot. Spoilers post "Hat Trick"ish

Rating: T

Pairing: Mary Margaret/Emma friendship

Timeline: I can't remember the exact episode, but let's say this takes place after "Hat Trick" once MM has been absolved and contains a tiny blink-and-you'll-miss-it hook for 2x01.

Disclaimer: If I've said it once, I've said it 1,000 times: I do not own _Once. _No profit is being made, just getting the plot out of my head.

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A/N: My second one-shot in two days featuring my favorite family. They just won't seem to leave me alone. Hope you enjoy.

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**Frozen Peas**

It seemed appropriate, Emma thought angrily, as she slammed the door to the yellow Bug. Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled warningly a few moments later. The weather was doing a good job of mirroring her mood. She stomped up the few stairs to the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret Blanchard and cursed as she tried to insert the keys into the lock one-handed. Her right hand was cradled close to her body, hidden in the red leather jacket she had pulled tight and zipped up against the approaching elements.

* * *

"Dammit, you piece of motherfu-" Emma's colorful curses were thankfully muffled by the thick door. Still, Mary Margaret heard them issued vehemently from the other woman. A look of concern crossed the brunette's face as she got up from the couch, uncurling her feet from under her and cornering the page of the book she'd been reading. She sat it on the end table as she walked to the front door.

Emma swung the door open, having gotten the locks open at last, and nearly pushed it into her roommate. Mary Margaret jumped back quickly, a look of surprise on her face. The door missed her by inches and provided a good view of Emma's shocked face.

"Emma! What's going on?" she asked, gripping the cold wood of the door so that it couldn't swing shut in the blonde's face.

"Mary Margaret!" Emma exclaimed, startled. "What-what are you doing here?" she asked guiltily. She angled her body, trying to hide her right hand and shifted unconsciously on her feet, the leather of her brown boots creaking.

"Teacher work day, which meant a half day for me," Mary explained, still holding the door. "Um, were you just testing the door and my reflexes, or did you actually want to come in?" she teased, smiling.

Emma shuffled her feet sheepishly and entered their shared apartment. The careful way the blonde held herself did not go unnoticed by the observant brunette. She pondered the secretive way Emma was acting, and knew an explanation was in order. Despite the progress they'd made in their relationship, Emma was still not forthcoming; getting the blonde to talk was a bit like pulling the teeth from the open jaws of a crocodile-extremely hard and a little dangerous.

Mary Margaret shut the door behind Emma and watched as the blonde wandered into the kitchen, with a suspicious air of appearing casual. The teacher canted her head, watching Emma from the living room. Emma wanted something, Mary knew, but was either too afraid or embarrassed to ask for it. Emma stepped over to the sink and then hesitated in front of it, glancing back at her roommate, as if checking to see if the brunette was still watching. The Sheriff seemed on the verge of speaking. Emma opened her mouth but then shook her head slightly and closed it, deciding not to speak. Instead, the blonde turned on her heel and scooted past Mary Margaret, fleeing to her room.

* * *

Mary Margaret's expression was confused as the blonde pushed past her. What was going on? What had she been hiding in her leather jacket? _Oh, no. You're not getting away that easy, Emma Swan._ Decision made, Mary Margaret walked fully into the kitchen and began gathering the ingredients and necessary utensils to make their dinner, and possibly, their shared favorite beverage.

As she began to make dinner, a frown crossed her face. Worry twisted her stomach until she couldn't take it. She turned the oven burner off and considered Emma's behavior. Concern mixed with curiosity had her quietly climbing the steps to the loft and Emma's bathroom a few minutes later.

* * *

Emma braced herself one handed on the sink in her bathroom as she considered herself in the mirror. The door of the bathroom was on her right. The door was old and didn't stay latched; it was cracked open slightly. Emma knew she would see the movement of it being opened out of her peripheral vision and relaxed, turning her attention to the situation she had placed herself in.

"You're a moron, y'know that?" she muttered to herself.

She had shed the red leather jacket as soon as she entered the bathroom, unwilling to let even its fabric touch her injured hand any longer. It lay crumpled on the bathroom floor, kicked out of the way. She stood in front of the mirror clad only in her jeans and a white tank top as she gazed at her bruises. She held up her right hand and made a turning motion with it, trying to assess the extent of the damage. She hissed as she realized she could only manage about a half turn before the pain in her wrist became unbearable. It wasn't broken, she knew, but it sure as hell felt that way. She opened the linen closet with her good hand and retrieved hydrogen peroxide and a dark colored washcloth. The darkness of the cloth would hide the blood she needed to clean off of her knuckles.

She _was _a moron and the pain she was about to impart on herself would be a good reminder that she shouldn't let her anger get the better of her. She maneuvered the items back to the sink and placed her right hand gently around the bottle of peroxide. She grit her teeth at the twinge of pain she felt as she unscrewed the lid with her left hand.

_Why was it that everyone always said peroxide didn't hurt?_ she thought angrily as she poured some onto her bleeding knuckles. Maybe it didn't hurt as much as rubbing alcohol, but it still stung enough to bring tears to the Sheriff's eyes. She watched as the liquid bubbled and joined with the blood on her knuckles, creating small red rivers that led into the sink.

She shut her eyes, bracing herself to pour more on the actively bleeding hand. The bottle was suddenly taken from her hand. Her eyes popped open, reflexes in action, thinking it had slipped from her grasp. Instead, the blonde opened her eyes to see her wide-eyed roommate glancing from Emma's face to her hand and back, as though the brunette was watching a fast-paced tennis match.

"Emma! What in the world did you do to your hand?" Mary Margaret asked, reaching for the hand in question. Her left hand grasped the bottle of peroxide tightly, concern etched across her delicate features.

Emma jerked her hand away, pain crossing her features at the sudden movement. She really was a _moron._ "I…I hurt it at work," she replied evasively.

"Right…and I'm Snow White," Mary Margaret said sarcastically, shooting the blonde a look of complete disbelief.

Emma felt an internal twinge and felt a small smile curl her lips before the fullness of the situation sank in. The smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared as Mary Margaret advanced on her. Emma took a step back, and then another, before her foot collided with the toilet and she sat down, hard. Thankfully, she had remembered to close the lid; otherwise, her hand wouldn't be the only thing that needed tending to.

Mary Margaret stood over her, looking more formidable than Emma had ever seen her. Perhaps this is how she looked to an impertinent student? The brunette gently took the cloth that Emma had crumpled in her hand, and looked at her roommate.

"Emma, what happened?" she asked, her eyes soft as she reached for the injured hand again.

Emma sighed and extended her right arm. Mary's eyes wandered over the extremity, from the swollen, bloodied knuckles to the bruised wrist and the blossoming dark marks that appeared to be fingerprints on Emma's forearm.

"Regina happened," Emma muttered, dropping her eyes to the cream colored bathmat. Mary was quiet as she poured peroxide onto the washcloth. With gentle, nimble hands, she cleaned off Emma's knuckles, applying pressure to the middle knuckle, which appeared to be the most split, until the blood flow stopped completely. Emma watched her ministrations warily, noticing that the brunette worked to keep from causing Emma more physical pain. The teacher paused and looked down at the blonde expectantly.

"And…?" Mary prompted, her eyes on Emma's downcast face.

Emma sighed again, a quick huff. She peered up through her lashes. "We…kinda had a fight," she admitted sheepishly.

"Did you win?" Mary Margaret said, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Mary Margaret!" Emma chided, chuckling. "Not exactly," she said, the smile fading. "I confronted her about you, about how she tried to frame you," she said, now looking Mary directly in the eye.

"Huh," the brunette said, flabbergasted. "Why," she asked with a shake of her head, "would you do that?"

Anger shadowed Emma's features, darkening her blue eyes. "It's bad enough she has Henry, and I can't seem to do anything about that. I'll be damned if I'm going to let her have you, too," she said fiercely.

"She tried. She lost," Mary Margaret said, sinking slowly to sit on the lip of the bath tub, releasing Emma's hand and clutching the washcloth, crumpling it in sudden fear.

"She tried once. Regina doesn't strike me as the type of person to give up after one unsuccessful try. Look at how many times she's tried to make _me_ leave," Emma said, her voice colored with certainty. Her eyes flashed angrily as she continued. "So, I marched into her office and we had it out. I basically told her, in no uncertain terms, that I would come after her if she tried that shit with you again."

* * *

Emma remembered her eyes narrowed to slits as she spat the threat at the Mayor. Regina had smiled viciously back at her and closed the distance between them. They stood toe-to-toe, the tension thick between them, Regina offering her a reptilian smirk. Emma was shocked when the Mayor slapped her, leaving a small red welt on the Sheriff's cheek. If Emma had kept her temper, she might've been able to arrest Regina for assault. The blonde's temper, always so quick, seemed to be on a hair trigger, just waiting for the mayor to pull it. They were too close to the wall, Emma realized a half-second later, as she connected the right cross she threw with the wallpapered wall, rather than Regina's smug face. A jolt of pain had traveled up her wrist to stop, throbbing angrily, in her forearm. Instantly, tears of pain had sprang into her eyes. Regina had laughed then and wrapped a vise-like grip around the Sheriff's forearm, her red nails piercing the skin, inducing a cry of pain from the blonde. The mayor dragged Emma from her office, jerking her by her injured arm into the thankfully vacant secretary's area before releasing her.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Sheriff, the next time you think to threaten me," Regina drawled, slamming the door in the blonde's pain filled face with a smirk.

* * *

Emma watched Mary's face as she related the incident to her roommate. With each word her roommate spoke, Mary Margaret felt her anger increase, until she was trembling with it. "That _bitch_…" the brunette cursed around clenched teeth. She was silent as she bent back over Emma's hand.

"And there's nothing you can do, legally, I mean?" she asked hopefully.

Emma shook her head. "No. I looked it up. Technically, it's mutual combat. I mean…I could swear out a warrant against her, but I'm the Sheriff and she's the Mayor," she explained with a sigh. "And then there's Henry to worry about…" Her forehead creased as she grew concerned about this new consideration; it hadn't previously occurred to her that Regina might use their fight in her impromptu custody battle.

"She's already tried to take him away from me once…" Emma trailed off, mouth twisting with worry.

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it," Mary Margaret suggested.

"Or get thrown off of it," Emma retorted, offering a small smile to Mary.

Mary Margaret shook her head at her roommate, humor in her eyes. She grew serious as she considered the bruises on Emma's arm.

"Can you tell if it's broken?" she asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, I've had quite a few broken bones in my time, so I can safely say it isn't broken. Probably just sprained," she replied, voice light.

Mary stood up and partially disappeared into the linen closet. She reemerged a few moments later clutching an ace bandage. "I know just the thing," she said, extending her hand to Emma's good one. "Come with me?"

* * *

Emma silently followed the brunette down the stairs into the kitchen. She noticed idly that the ingredients for hot chocolate (with cinnamon) were sitting neatly on the counter-top beside the sink. She leaned against the solid oak of the kitchen table as Mary moved around. First, she opened a cabinet and retrieved a glass, filling it with water from the sink. Then, she opened another cabinet, the one above the sink. She collected a bottle of Advil and shook it. The pills rattled in the plastic container as she sat it in front of Emma, along with the water.

"This is what you were grabbing before, when you first came home, when you didn't want me to know, right?" Mary Margaret asked, not expecting an answer.

She thought she saw a shadow of guilt flicker in Emma's eyes as she turned towards the refrigerator. The white exterior held colorful pictures her students had made which clung to its metallic surface with magnets. Emma looked at the fridge and realized there was a picture of herself there. She stood up and paced the few steps until she was parallel with Mary Margaret. Self-consciously, she reached for the white rectangle of paper. It was a picture of a blonde woman holding a sword high in the air. Beside her stood a dark haired woman dressed all in white. She was holding hands with a tall smiling man who wore a crown. Beside the woman holding a sword was a smiling smaller figure that held her other hand. Both women were quiet as they contemplated the drawing. Emma didn't see the sideways glances Mary cast at her.

"Henry made it," Mary Margaret explained unnecessarily. "You're the one with the sword," she said, smirking at the blonde. Emma smiled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever give up my gun for a _sword_," she said scornfully.

Her wrist throbbed painfully, breaking the moment and Emma returned to her seat. She struggled with the stupid childproof top of the medicine bottle before Mary took mercy on her and opened it. She removed three pills and set them beside the glass of water. She turned, bottle in hand, and replaced the lid, returning it to its spot above the sink.

Mary Margaret opened the freezer, resuming the task she had previously started before Emma had seen Henry's drawing. The bags made a rustling sound as she moved them around in the freezer, searching for something. Emma watched her in amusement, noticing the way the brunette straightened as she found her prize.

"Frozen peas," Mary Margaret said brightly, setting the white vegetable bag in front of the blonde with a thunk.

"Uh…thank you? But I'm not really hungry for those," Emma said, confusion twisting her features.

Mary laughed lightly. "No, goose. Put them on your wrist," she ordered.

"Not a goose," Emma corrected. "A Swan," she teased as Mary stuck out her tongue. She picked up the bag and sat it gently on her wrist. The cold made her gasp involuntarily, but after a few minutes, her wrist began to feel numb. She sighed with contentment.

"Much better," she said, eyes closed as the cold leeched the pain away. She let her head fall forward to her chest, her injured arm held out on the table, frozen peas melting slowly. She dozed, jerking awake when the timer on the stove toned.

* * *

Emma opened her eyes as Mary Margaret set a bowl of something delicious in front of her. The odors of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich wafted from the plate.

"I thought I would make dinner for my _hero_," Mary said, fluttering her eyelashes at the word "hero." She threw her hand up dramatically, the back of her hand touching her forehead. The pose elicited a laugh from Emma. Grinning at her own foolishness, Mary Margaret grabbed her plate and sat across from Emma.

They ate hungrily, a companionable silence stretching between them, broken only by the clanking of the silverware on the dishes. Finished, Emma brought her plate to the sink, rinsing it quickly before leaving it. She settled onto the couch, one hand clutching the frozen peas to her injured wrist. She brought her bare feet up and set them on the coffee table. She wiggled and decided she was as comfortable as she was going to be. She closed her eyes again, contemplating the day's events.

Not everyone needed protection. Though Mary Margaret was fairly self-sufficient, Emma admitted to herself that she felt an undeniable need to protect the brunette, who exuded innocence reminiscent of Disney's version of Snow White. So what if she wasn't actually a fairy tale character? Regina Mills was close enough to an Evil Queen for the metaphor to stick. Emma snickered quietly to herself. If Mary was Snow White and Regina the Queen, did that make her Prince Charming? Of course not, but that didn't mean she couldn't stand in his place and protect her best friend.

* * *

Mary Margaret did her level best to move silently in the kitchen. She could hear Emma snoring gently in the living room and smiled to herself. Her face darkened with concern. Why did the younger woman find herself constantly at odds with the dominating Mayor? And now they had escalated to violence, instead of their usual heated argument. Mary glanced unconsciously at the blonde in the other room. Emma had come out the clear loser of their scuffle. She tried to corral her thoughts as she cleared away the plates and cleaned the kitchen. She pushed away her concern that Emma's fear regarding Henry might be founded and decided that they would face that obstacle together, if it reared its ugly head. She smiled slightly, her eyes falling on the image Henry had drawn of Emma with a sword. Maybe Emma could use the sword to clear the obstacles between them.

Mary Margaret stirred the milk and added the chocolate. Soon, the beverage was finished. She poured a mug for herself and went into the living room. She paused on the rug, surveying the sleeping Emma. She looked comfortable, her bare feet on the table, slumped on the couch. Her injured arm was propped on the arm of the couch, the frozen peas melting a dark spot onto the couch. Mary Margaret set the mug on the coffee table and then lifted the nearly thawed bag from Emma's arm. She chucked it back into the freezer for it to refreeze, making a mental note not to use that bag. She grabbed the ace bandage she had set on the countertop and returned to the living room.

"Emma," she called softly, shaking the blonde's left shoulder. She had seated herself on the cushion beside Emma.

"Hmmm…" the blonde mumbled, not opening her eyes.

Mary Margaret shook her again, smiling at the younger woman as she opened her eyes blearily. "What time is it?" she asked, her eyes slightly unfocused.

Mary chuckled. "It's not that late. You can stay out here if you want, but we need to wrap your wrist or it's going to puff up like a balloon," she said, gesturing to the bruised area.

Emma made a face, but offered the other woman her injured arm wordlessly. Carefully, Mary Margaret wrapped her wrist and secured it.

"What, were you a nurse in a past life?" Emma joked, appraising the dressing.

Mary smiled and shrugged. "I guess so. Want to watch TV?" she asked.

Emma nodded her ascent, her eyelids drooping again. Mary reached behind them and pulled a thick quilt down, off of the back of the couch. She threw it out so that it engulfed both of them. As Emma closed her eyes and settled back into sleep, the brunette resisted the compulsory urge to tuck her in. Emma's face, blank of any emotion, without defensiveness or anger, betrayed the vulnerable young woman inside. Sometimes, it was apparent that Emma was _someone's _little girl.

Emma may not have initially wanted to make a connection with Mary Margaret, but it was clear a connection had been made. Hero or no hero, Mary Margaret was just as determined to protect Emma, to protect the family they had created together. If Regina thought she could tear them apart, maybe Mary really would get Emma a sword. The brunette smiled at the thought as she felt Emma lean into her, snuggling in her sleep. Nothing was going to tear them apart again, not if she had anything to say about it.

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A/N: Hope y'all liked it. I've sprained my wrist a fair few times, so I know the pain…it sucks and takes FOREVER to heal. The phrase "silly goose" is used all the time in my family…maybe that shows my age LOL. I hope you laughed at some of my (weak) jokes. Thanks for reading and please **REVIEW!**

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Music: Switchfoot "The Shadow Proves the Sunshine"

"Sunshine, won't you be my mother

Sunshine, come and help me sing  
My heart is darker than these oceans  
My heart is frozen underneath

We are crooked souls trying to stay up straight,  
Dry eyes in the pouring rain  
The shadow proves the sunshine  
The shadow proves the sunshine

Two scared little runaways  
Hold fast to the break of day light were  
The shadow proves the sunshine..."


End file.
